


Bloody Roar

by Bloodvix



Series: Young Ragnarok [1]
Category: Ragnarok Online
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 04:47:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14441688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloodvix/pseuds/Bloodvix
Summary: She walked past him with bloodstained blades.





	Bloody Roar

**Author's Note:**

> A little story written for my old friends, when we were young and our virtual, online wars were serious business indeed :)

The first time he saw her, she was one of the many faceless passerby in the town of Prontera. He had been drawn like a moth to the flame, to the veil of power and confidence that surrounded her.

He returned to the same spot, same day every week. Without fail, before the clock strikes twelve, he would see the assassin walking through the crowd, people unconsciously moving aside to give her a path. She radiated power, unseen by the common men, but bright like a beacon to those similarly skilled; Power only wielded by assassins skilled enough to join the ranks of the Cross.

Power that made him trails her path every week. He observed how she paid little attention to those around her, ignored those that she does not fear. She slows and watchs those that move with confidence not unlike hers; size them up, list them down in her mind. Sometimes she pauses and he shrinks back, slips into the alleys, for he knew that she could sense his presence. She would not find him, that he was sure. A cross she might be, but he came with skills of his own.

Within a month he found the way to interrupt her weekly stroll in the Prontera Market. Her trips through town were brisk; no detours, seldom stopping. Once, twice, he had seen her looking at weapons from a vendor. Other times, she stopped at the auction house when there was a katar or two on display. A lover of exotic blades, a lady of lethal weapons.

And he is the master of all weapons. To get his hands on this most mystical of katars had not required much effort. A bait it would be; a bait for the Valkyrie.

For he knows what they called her, from those who dared only to whisper it. "The Valkyrie." They said to each other when she is out of sight. "The Valkyrie of war."

 

* * *

 

He sat against the side of his cart near the corner of Prontera, waiting for her to appear at the gate from which she normally leaves. As expected, she paid him barely a glance as she walked towards the gate, boots silent on the concrete path.

"Lady Valkyrie." She showed no sign of hearing him, but he caught the way her eyes flicked towards him. Lazily, he drew the pair of blood colored blades from his cart. She stopped.

"May I interest you with this?" A victory is it, for now he had her attention.

She regarded him coldly. "You had been tailing me for an entire month. What is it that you want, that I have?"

"A deal, if you would, to be discussed over a cup of coffee. This is no common weapon."

"State your trade and we shall have a deal if the price is fair. There is no need for a lengthy discussion."

"And if I were to give it for free?"

She frowned. "It is not wise to pull pranks on me."

"I have no need for cash. You have something else that I want."

The look she gave him was suspicious. Seems like the time to cut the chase. "A show of faith. My name is Vince." Not many people dared reveal their names to crosses; it is not a very healthy thing to do.

Recognition flashed in her eyes; She had heard of him. "Whitesmith Vince."

He nodded. "Would you grace me with your company, my lady?"

"A show of faith." She returned his line with a calculating smile. "If you would accompany me to the Morrocian Inn."

The town where assassins strive, her home ground. Not that it matters to him. One hand on his cart, the other holding his heavy Tomahawk, he turned to the south entrance of Prontera town. "This way, my lady."

They arrived at the desert town before sundown, the whitesmith leading the way as he effortlessly pulled his cart behind him. The rowdy crowd in the local tavern sneaked suspicious glances when he entered, his zeny pouch inevitably catching the eyes of several patrons. Eyes that were turned away immediately when she stepped in behind him.

The jovial barkeep beckoned to them and the assassin cross took the table nearest to him. "The usual, Miss Valkyrie?" She nodded, and the man turned to Vince. "Anything for you, sir?"

He put down an order for a Tropical Sograts, waving the inquisitive barkeep away. They stared quietly as the man walked to the other end of the tavern to break up a fight. When the man returned with their drinks, the whitesmith saw him slipping a slip of parchment to the cross. She accepted the note with a nod before turning her attention back to him.

"So, smith. What is your game?"

He stared at his drink, pondering. What is his game? He was curious; curious enough to throw in a special request to find the weapon that would ensnare her. Curious for a chance to talk to her, to have her attention.

What is his game?

"You." He looked at the girl, and there was no hesitation in his eyes. Beside his chair, his free hand shifted to grip on the Tomahawk. Her eyes were unreadable. Patrons sitting close to their table stopped their activities as they turned, almost as if they felt the sudden tension between the two.

"Confident and reckless." When she finally broke the silence, there was just this tiny wave of relief that ran through him. Despite the confident front, he knew he would be fighting for his life if she had pulled her weapo. "Explain yourself and we shall see about that fight."

"A guild, my lady." He paused. "You have always fought under a leader, and so have I. It is time to leave that shadow."

The emperium that he removed from his cart shone faintly as he placed it on the table. "Join me. You are not just a normal fighter. Lead a guild with me."

She looked at the golden stone. "Give me a good reason to leave my people."

"Your people no long wishes to fight and I say the same for mine. The guilds are shifting, and the ones moving into power are neither mine nor yours. Those that you follow are no longer interested in these wars."

"There are others I can join."

"This guild will start with you and fall with you."

She stared at him. He finished his drink.

"My fighting ability is not the reason you want me in this guild."

"It is one of the many reasons."

He could tell that she was interested, wary and maybe a little confused. "And the rest of the reasons?"

"That will be mine to know."

She played with the piece of parchment that the barkeep had given her before, folding and unfolding. Suddenly, she turned to the counter and waved the man over. He took the parchment from her with a surprised look, then gave a shrug and went back to his job. Vince watched the retreating form of the barkeep, and allowed himself a smile.

 

* * *

 

_War of Emperium, One Week later_

 

An assassin cross moved close behind a paladin currently shouting orders to his guild.

"Kamp." The heavily armored man turned at the familiar voice. The cross leading their rival guild uncloaked from the shadows beside him. "Stop. I'm not here to fight, only to bring a warning." He backed into the darkness.

"There is a new guild. You should be wary."

Kamp scoffed. "A new guild would pose less threat to mine that to yours."

The assassin gave him a glare, unimpressed. "Vince is leading the guild, you know how powerful he is. Best be getting all your men to be cautious; he has a powerful ally."

"An ally?"

"Assassin cross Lenn. The Valkyrie." Information conveyed, the messenger retreated towards the castle exit. "Good luck. You will need it as much as I do."

 

 

 


End file.
